Student Blog: Identity: How Much Does What We Do Define Who We Are?

You never realize how much being a student is a part of your identity until you near the end of your student career.

Think about it- when you’re a student, what’s one of the first things you say after you introduce you’re name? You say your school, your grade, and your major if possible. Now, I’m not THAT close to the end of my college career, but this year has been rapidly passing me by. The fact alone that I have to start being aware and planning how to pay my loans post-graduation is sickening. However, all this anxiety got me stuck on a certain train of thought. 

I can’t help but keep thinking about how much being a student is ingrained into my life and how most of my life has been a student until this point. It creates a routine, whether it be classes five days a week for six hours each day or a scattered college schedule. Currently, I’m enjoying my January break which lasts from December 19th to February 2nd. This is longer than most schools and I’m lucky I have work to keep me busy, but I can no longer fathom the idea of only having a week-long break during the holiday season. Students also have the wonderful privilege of a summer break, something adult life seems to lack. I’m not looking forward to the day summer breaks are just a memory.  While being a student might not define me as a person, it does dictate a lot of my life. There’s something about being a student associated with this vessel of untapped potential that is getting ready to take on the world one day. I find a lot of comfort in this image because it gives me the chance to exceed expectations when needed but also the space to make mistakes without the same scrutiny. 

As an artist, I feel like this idea of identity is even more emphasized. 

And thus, I began to wonder: How much does what we do define who we are? 

I don’t know if this is true, but I remember being told that last names like ‘Smith’ originated from a person’s profession. Someone who was a Blacksmith had the last name Smith and passed it on, hence why some last names are more common than others. 

As a theatremaker, a lot of the work done is rooted in such passion. I find that as I venture out of ‘performer’ identity into ‘director’, I find myself conflicted. I don’t want to give up on performing, it’s been part of my life for so long and I may say it even defined who I am today. Maybe it’s because a theatre academic setting is a bit more strict with labels on what you can and can’t do/be because of majors and minors, but I often feel like not only do I no longer have the right to consider myself a performer because I’m not necessarily an ‘active’ performer but that I’m also no longer viewed as one. And as I get closer to the end of my schooling, I feel like the rug will be pulled from beneath me and the theatre maker in me will just be aimlessly floating, no idea how to put my knowledge to work.  

In my sophomore year of high school, I took the singular theatre class my public school had to offer; Theatre Arts. My teacher introduced the idea that identity is made of three factors: who you think you are, who other people see you, and who you actually are. I was once told that I’m the protagonist of a coming-of-age story before everything good happens. Considering I’ve been listening to “The Way That It Has To Be” from Maybe Happy Ending on repeat reaffirms that fact. There’s a part of me that is detached from performing because of my major, and the lack of any outlet for this has been taking its toll. I fear that even before I had the chance to truly thrive and explore as a performer, is a chance already gone. And will it ever come back?  Hence why I’ve been listening to “As If I’ve Never Said Goodbye” from Sunset Boulevard on repeat. 

Going into school, I studied Public Relations because I was told I’d be good at it. I thought, ‘Heck if I’m supposedly good at it let’s do it, and there are theatre and entertainment opportunities’. I took a PR class and found myself in a place where I still had a LOT of learning to do, which sucks because there’s no other class that’s just about learning how to write press releases or media pitches. I plan on continuing my studies with PR, but I worry that I won’t be equipped with enough tools to succeed in it. Public Relations is its own form of storytelling after all. 

As I find myself worrying more about what life post-graduation will look like, I worry if I’m going to end up becoming a version of myself that’s unrecognizable. I’ve always been driven and passionate. My drive and passion have always been channeled through theatre. But what happens to who I am if I have to put a more creative theatre career on the back burner? Save up and work on it when I’m in a place where I’m stable enough to try it out, minimize what’s been my ‘youthful’ ambition into a hobby. But who am I without my drive and passion? Does temporarily settling or pursuing something else mean I lose that or am I simply redirecting it? Or am I putting it on the stove to simmer and eventually boil when it’s allowed to thrive? 

Oh, the joys of young adulthood.    

Deep down, I know most of these worries will be solved through growth. I know who I am isn’t chained to what I do. I know my identity as a theatremaker isn’t limited to just ‘performer’, ‘director’, or ‘arts admin’. I’m 19 years old. I have a whole life ahead of me where I’m to learn about myself, settle, and love the person I will become. But these fears are so present because that future is so unknown. I’m sure I’m not the only one who has these thoughts ruminating in their head, whether it be in the new year 2025 or the years of the past. But maybe we can all find a little comfort in braving the unknown together. 

Happy New Year! 

(Fives tend to be lucky for me, and I hope it’s the same for you.) 

Signed,

 J.F